


Rude girl

by edenforest



Series: I feel you in my dreams [8]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, gallya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenforest/pseuds/edenforest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby stared in the darkness and lowered her hand. She leaned against the glass. Illya looked at her through his scope. Gaby looked straight to him, even if she couldn’t see him. Girl in a raspberry dress in the illuminated cube in the middle of the darkness. His girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rude girl

**Author's Note:**

> Part 8/11

They were in Düsseldorf. It was evening, already dark. Gaby sat in an upstairs lobby of a modern office building. In front of her was simple white desk and the wall behind her was entirely made of glass. She sat in a revolving chair. Occasionally she spun around with her chair and Illya could see her legs, face, and raspberry coloured dress.

The building was like an illuminated fish tank in the darkness. There were other people downstairs, but upstairs there was only spinning Gaby. Or that was how it seemed. A few doors farther down the corridor Cowboy was becoming fast friends with the highly modern safe. The business executives were rich men and their safe was so new that Napoleon had never broken into one like it. So he was thorough and examined almost gently what made the safe tick. They were in no rush. Everything was peaceful, it was evening, there were only a few people in the building and the only people with guns were they. So Napoleon took his time, Gaby spun with her chair, and Illya looked through his sniper rifle’s scope that everything went smoothly. Mostly he looked at Gaby. She spun again, slowly, bored and slouching in the chair. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn’t have any reason.

“Somebody is coming up,” Illya said and Gaby, who could hear his voice on her earpiece, straightened herself and turned to face her desk. She took some folders and organized those for show. When a middle-aged man climbed upstairs, she stopped. The man was carrying a pile of papers and folders and he called her Fräulein Hoffman. Gaby stood up and went to take the papers. The man thanked her and when Gaby turned his hand patted her buttocks. It was almost gentle, but didn’t annoy her any less. Gaby’s face tightened and her fingers squeezed the papers.

“Gute nacht, Fräulein Hoffman,” the man said as he went.

“Gute nacht, Herr Dietrich,” Gaby said with a fake cheeriness on her voice. She dropped the pile on her desk and rolled her eyes.

“I was sure you were going to hit him,” Illya said, now that he had something to talk about.

“I thought I was supposed to be calm no matter what and don’t make any fuss,” Gaby pointed out.

“Yes,” Illya granted. “But you do not always take orders like that so well.”

Gaby snorted but still smiled. Illya could hear the smile in her voice through the transmitter on her desk. Their connection was open all the time; Gaby could also reach Cowboy if that was necessary.

“It’s good for you to say,” Gaby muttered and leaned against the desk. “You are there with a gun. I am here getting my ass groped.”

“When you can shoot as good as me, we can switch places,” Illya promised and smiled to himself.

“I will hold you to that promise,” Gaby said and pointed her finger somewhere in the dark. She didn’t really know where Illya was.

“Left,” Illya guided and Gaby turned slowly. “Little more… up… not that much… there.”

Gaby stared in the darkness and lowered her hand. She leaned against the glass. Illya looked at her through his scope. Gaby looked straight to him, even if she couldn’t see him. Girl in a raspberry dress in the illuminated cube in the middle of the darkness. His girl. They hadn’t done anything about it, but Illya knew that she was his. Her belly and breasts pressed lightly against the glass.

The situation was what they were, Illya thought. Gaby was in the light, he was in the dark and there was glass separating them. She was his and still she wasn’t close enough to touch.

“How well can you see me?” Gaby asked.

“Well,” Illya assured. He saw her well, better than anybody else.

“If you needed to shoot me, could you aim properly or would you have to shoot only in my direction?” she asked.

“I could aim properly,” Illya said.

“Could you hit my kneecap?” Gaby asked and pressed her knee against the glass.

“Yes,” Illya said. “But I would not shoot you there.”

“Why?” Gaby asked.

“I would have to have a good reason to shoot you; otherwise I would not do it. And there is no reason why I would shoot your kneecaps,” Illya explained. “I can only think that I would shoot you if there was somebody behind you who was going to kill you and the only way to save you would be to shoot him through you. And no one would aim at a kneecap in a situation like that.”

“Where then?” Gaby asked. She sat in her chair, spun around one time, and then stared in the darkness in Illya’s direction.

“Shoulder, maybe,” Illya said. “You would live. Probably heal fully.”

”You would shoot me through my shoulder?” Gaby asked.

”Yes,” Illya admitted, ”if there was no other way. Would you rather take my bullet through your shoulder or somebody else’s bullet through your head?”

Gaby hummed and spun slowly around. She looked relaxed. Illya liked looking at her. And Gaby liked to know he was looking.

”Your bullet, of course,” Gaby said then. ”In case you weren’t sure. Of course I would choose sick leave instead of death. And you can do it.”

“Do what?” Illya asked. ”Shoot you?”

Yes,” Gaby said. ”If the situation demands it. You don’t even have to say sorry, because I’m giving you permission now.”

“Are you going to go morbid on me?” Illya asked and Gaby could hear his smile.

“Maybe,” she said and shrugged her shoulders.

Illya hummed. “Let’s hope that the situation does not demand it,” he said quietly.

To Gaby’s ear it sounded like a whisper; like he was standing somewhere close, behind her. She spun with her chair, turned away from the window and when Illya couldn’t see her, she closed her eyes. Then Gaby stood back up and returned to the window. “I still don’t know how well you see me,” she said and leaned against the glass.

“Well,” Illya said. “I already told you.” He liked how Gaby’s body pressed against the glass and how her eyes combed the darkness to find him. From time to time she stared straight into his eyes.

“Can you see the colour of my eyes?” Gaby asked.

“I know the colour of your eyes,” Illya said. He could pick the exactly right shade from a colour chart without hesitation. He could see her eyes when he closed his own. ”So I am not sure do I really see it, or am I only assuming that I see it. Maybe I see them only dark, not really brown.”

Gaby returned to her desk, reached to a notepad and a pen. Her left palm was pressed against the desk and she wrote something with her right hand. She was bent away from him, leaning close to the desk and Illya wasn’t sure did she do it on purpose. He could see under her dress. Illya adjusted his position when his body showed some signs that the view was little too nice.

“I can see under your dress,” Illya muttered to let her know.

“Good,” Gaby breathed out.

Illya swallowed slowly. He wasn’t sure anymore how Gaby was playing. Before everything had been only teasing and jokes. Now he was sure that there were truths in the mix and Illya couldn’t tell which was which. Gaby’s “good” had sounded like a truth.

Gaby glanced at him over her shoulder and pouted little while she thought. Then she straightened herself and returned to the window. Illya was sure her cheeks were suddenly redder.

Gaby pressed the note between the glass and her palm and breathed out nervously. “Can you read this?” she asked and her heart was beating faster. If Illya could see to read the note, then he would know what she had written and it would be hard to turn it into a joke.

Illya adjusted his scope and frowned. “No,” he muttered. “It is not long text, but I cannot make clear of it.”

Gaby hummed and took her hand away. She turned to lean her back on the window and looked the note.

“What does it say?” Illya asked, interested. He wanted to know what Gaby’s little message had been.

“I’m sure you would like to know,” Gaby said, smiling. She tilted her head to the note. She was glad that Illya couldn’t read it. It felt like she had bought herself little more time. The only problem was that she didn’t know did she need more time. Or did she really even want more time. “I’m not telling you,” she said and grinned over her shoulder. “I just have to wait for somebody with a bigger scope,” she said and lifted her other brow.

There was a low chuckle that came out of Illya. Gaby could hear it in her ears and felt it in her stomach. She was happy that Illya couldn’t see her pleased face. Gaby set the note on the desk and returned back to the window. She pressed her face almost against it and opened her mouth. Illya frowned when he didn’t understand what Gaby was doing. But then she breathed out and steamed the glass. She drew a letter with her fingertip.

“Can you see this?” Gaby asked.

”Yes,” Illya said.

Gaby breathed out again and drew another letter in a mirror image so that Illya could just read it right way.

Illya watched as Gaby drew slowly letters on the glass. She steamed the glass with her breath and glanced through it towards him. The corners of her mouth twitched. She drew the Cyrillic letters slowly. С, У, К. Gaby wrote and smile little mischievous smile. Illya knew what she was writing before her last letter. She breathed on the glass and started to draw the A; her finger slid against the steamed glass. Before the last little horizontal line she leaned closer and then drew the line with the tip of her tongue. Illya bit his lower lip.

“Rude girl,” he muttered and Gaby made a quiet giggle.

She shrugged her shoulders and sat in her chair. “You liked it.”

Illya hummed when there was no denying it. He liked that she was little rude sometimes. He could only imagine the things she would say in bed.

For some reason it was always little easier to talk to Gaby when she wasn’t too near. In the same room he would let her intimidate him and then he wouldn’t be able to look at her in the eyes anymore without feeling completely powerless. But it gave him strength when Gaby couldn’t see his flaring nostrils and his face which revealed just how much her behavior affected on him. Rude girl in a raspberry dress, her tongue touching the window. What Illya would give if her tongue was touching him instead, slipping slowly against his lower lip before sinking into his mouth and rubbing against his own tongue.

Gaby spun with her chair and looked into the darkness. Maybe she was after all a little disappointed that Illya couldn’t see her note. At least then it would be out there and they couldn’t any more just avoid it. She was getting tired of playing. Gaby felt like they had been tiptoeing around each other for over six months. The game itself didn’t bother her. No, she liked that. But she wanted more. Gaby didn’t want to slide her tongue against the window; she wanted to slide it against Illya, slowly and gently. She wanted to nibble and suck and kiss. She wanted to see Illya’s face when he came and hear him grunt out of pleasure. She wanted soft touches, rough touches and touches she could feel all the way in her soul. She wanted to lose herself to him and moan his name.

“What are you thinking about?” Illya’s voice was again like a whisper in her ear, deep and husky.

“Why?” Gaby asked. She wanted to close her eyes and listen to his voice. If Illya would ask, she would slide her hand inside her underwear and let him watch. She almost suggested it herself. She spun slowly with her chair, closed her eyes when Illya couldn’t see. She could take her underwear away, lift her other leg over the armrest and touch herself. Illya could tell into her ear how good it all looked. Gaby would bend her head back, over the chair’s back. She would hear Illya breathe deeper through her earpiece. She could let him watch when she came, crying out loud how good it felt.

Maybe he could then be here, with her. He could lift her up and place her on the edge of the desk. He was probably wearing all black. He had gloves that had no fingertips so he could still touch her. Rub her already warm and ready flesh. He could stare at her like he did. Make her knees weak and her heart race.

Gaby’s chair spun around and she opened her eyes. She dug her fingers into the armrests and held herself back. She let a whole lungful of air out. She told herself to stop; they were still in the middle of a mission. She couldn’t do this now.

“You look… excited,” Illya said, unsure. He really wanted to say turned on, but he didn’t. He wanted her to _be_ turned on.

“Just thinking,” Gaby said quietly and smiled gently. She should hate Illya. She should hate, despise and fear him. That was how she had been raised to feel. He was Russian, he had been a soldier. It was enough to make her think only bad things about him. And still there were none of those feelings. Her feelings weren’t aggressively angular, but soft and round. Gaby hadn’t ever loved anybody outside of her immediate family. She had loved those people her genetics had wired her to love. But now she loved Illya. And that was love she had chosen herself. Genetics didn’t make her love him, she wasn’t wired to do that, even her own beliefs were against it. And still she loved. Some months ago she had almost drowned. It had been panic and fear. Now she was drowning in Illya and she did nothing to save herself. She had already let go of the grid that was helping her keep from submerging. It was as murky and green as seawater had been, but there was no panic, no fear. Only calm and safe and love she had chosen. “Happy thoughts.”

“That is nice to hear,” Illya said smiling and continued softly: “Don’t get scared.”

“About what?” Gaby wondered.

“I’m ready,” Napoleon said on the other side of the desk and made Gaby jerk so hard she almost fell off the chair.

“Scheiße,” she gasped. “You scared me.”

“I warned you,” Illya pointed out amusedly.

“No you didn’t,” Gaby said and frowned over her shoulder in the darkness. “You spoke all softly to make the shock bigger.”

Illya smiled his little smile. He could almost hear the glass cracking between them. Soon it would shatter and then there would be nothing separating them.

Napoleon picked a little note from the desk that said “Ich will dich” and frowned at it. “Is somebody leaving you suggestive notes?” he asked interested.

Gaby grabbed the note, embarrassed, and crumpled it, and threw it in a trash can. She didn’t need a note. She could say what she was going to say out loud. Maybe not today, but soon.  And she was almost sure that Illya knew that already. She hadn’t hid it very well lately. “Let’s go,” Gaby said to Napoleon and started walking across the lobby. She made her hips rock little more than was natural. It was all for Illya to watch. Preview of things she knew she couldn’t hold back anymore. Things that were rushing towards them like a tidal wave. She could hear the thunderous roar already, feel the ground tremble under her heels. It was coming and it was going to hit so hard that it could break its way through mountains.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to MollokoPlus


End file.
